


at one time, for a time

by fairyslush



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Dimension Warping, Established Relationship, Interdimension Travel, M/M, Multiple Selves, Multiverse, the full list of warnings are on the note so please do read that carefully!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 13:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17509217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairyslush/pseuds/fairyslush
Summary: in which johnny is a block of cheese, and taeyong likes to pretend his favorite food isn’t fondue.alternatively, johnny travels the multiverse to prove that he will love taeyong in every single one.(inspired by 120119 ennana)





	at one time, for a time

**Author's Note:**

> so! this is a multiverse fic. if you follow me on twitter, i've been rambling about this au for a while. thanks, nnn.
> 
> there's two universes in here that may not be your cup of tea. universe number 3 has referenced character death, and universe number five has a dystopic theme and couple suicide ideation. neither are graphic, and both are resolved. everything else is safe for reading, and i do hope you enjoy all lives in this.
> 
> johnny is our favorite six foot block of cheese, let's all admit it.

_that’s the secret of the universe; billions of people, making billions of choices, creating infinite earths._

_\--owlman, justice league: crisis on two earths_

 

🌙

 

the year is a thousand years into the future.

there’s hoverboards now, among other things that zig-zag across the endless skyscrapers that litter the city. seoul remains massive, its tall, corporate buildings spanning more than a thousand floors, with penthouses and points reaching well beyond the fluffy clouds.

airplanes have been deemed obsolete. teleporters are the in thing now, side by side with freeze-dried gourmet meals ( _just add water_!) and holographic bandages for accelerated recovery.

multidimensional travel is particularly hip, especially for young romantics with a knack for technology.  

one of those young romantics is johnny seo youngho. this year marks his twenty-fourth birthday, as well as his first wedding anniversary with his best friend and colleague lee taeyong.

they’re _scientists_ ; one of the most well-known across the country. the papers call them prodigies, pioneers in the art of interdimensional travelling. it’s because of their joint work in university that the country has become the leading institution for multiversal transport, and both are deemed impeccable and irreplaceable in their continuing work on the matter.

it just so happens they’re _also_ wholly in love with each other.

some people really just have all the luck.

“i have—” johnny begins, cheek rested against the immaculate table of the near-empty break room. it’s a slow month for the multidimensional industry, and the facility is barren of people save for workaholic couples whose idea of a date is tinkering with space time continuums. “—a proposition.”

taeyong looks up from his hologram monitor, ignoring all the warning bells that come from his husband using the p-word in a sentence. _true love_. “what is it?”

“what if i tell you—” johnny adds a pause to his litany, ever fond of dramatics. taeyong tries his best not pre-empt his exasperation. “—that i _can_ and _will_ fall for every lee taeyong that exists.”

this lee taeyong furrows his brows, before keying in a couple of words into a freshly-opened search bar.

“ _great_ ,” his tone implies that it is, in fact, not great. “there’s at least a hundred in the city alone. i think—” there’s sass in the little jut of his bottom tier, a prelude to a rather scathing banter. “—filing a _divorce_ is much easier than whatever it is that you’re planning.”

“no,” johnny whines, the single syllable stretched to sound like twenty. he reaches out to grab his husband’s hand, a pout on full display despite the obvious joke. “i meant in the _multiverse_.”

taeyong looks at him like he’s got the iq of a gnat and not an award-winning researcher.

“is this about what the council said about us?” he asks, brow quirked, tapping the table twice with his free hand to make the monitor disappear with a small _fwip_. “you know, about being—”

“ _quantum aligned_ ,” johnny supplies, the word sounding like a curse against his tongue. he hates the term, thinks it makes the whole thing unromantic. “it’s yes and no. mostly, it’s because—”

“you’re a man who believes in empirical evidence and you want to see it with your own two eyes,” taeyong shoots, scores, and johnny is left speechless at how effectively his better half has just finished his entire train of thought. “is that it?”

“ _yeah_ ,” johnny nods, a bit dazed from the exchange still, but he gives taeyong’s fingers a light squeeze.   _affirmation_. “yeah, that’s it _.”_

taeyong sighs, but there’s a hint of endearment in his irritated front. “you’re a block of cheese.”

“mhm,” johnny hums, his smirk victorious. “and your favorite food is fondue.”

 

🌙

 

the multidimensional development group sits in a pure white building smack-dab in the middle of third millennium seoul. it’s hard to miss, being one of the tallest skyscrapers in the vicinity, and the recent boom in multiversal travel has made it into quite an instragram-worthy tourist spot. the best of the best in the industry roam its seven hundred floors, all dedicated to furthering innovation in the niche.

at least ten of those floors are solely built to house state-of-the art transportation chambers. it’s a two-millisecond teleporter ride from the researcher breakrooms, and johnny and taeyong have their hands intertwined as they walk along the immaculate halls towards their assigned room.

“i should’ve brought the febreze,” taeyong comments with a scrunch of his nose, as if the entire room didn’t already smell like the institutional fragrance. “it always smells like moth balls in here.”

“there’s a bottle underneath the control panel,” johnny motions, and sure enough, there’s a half-full canister sitting on the bottommost shelf. taeyong grins as he takes his favorite piece of the second millennium and goes to town with making the chamber smell like a springtime field.

there are a couple of ways to go with interdimensional travel, but the safest one involves a transit of the mind. instead of the body undergoing the warp (and risking atomic destabilization in the process), it’s the consciousness that roams across the multiverses. the body is cryogenically frozen, kept stable by patented, highly confidential technology, while the mind transfers to the interdimensional host—a fancy word for another version of the self that exists in one of the countless universes.

“everything’s good on my end,” taeyong calls from the control panel, his fingers deft as they fly across the holographic set-up to key-in the necessary code for the procedure. “are you suited up?”

on cue, johnny emerges from one of the _en suite_ dressing rooms in an insulated body-suit, as white as the walls that frame the entire hall. there’s a little bear embroidered into the fabric, courtesy of lee taeyong, who knows, all too well, about johnny’s distaste for the facility’s knack for sterile perfection.

“ready for action,” he replies, before stepping into the transporter.

the transporter is white, like all things in the facility. a cylindrical glass frame separates the cryogenic chamber from the outer hall, while a glowing band rests above the formation.

today, johnny is the traveler. he steps inside the cryogenic enclosure, taking a deep breath along with the fizzle of the cold frost. taeyong, of course, is his operator, tasked to observe his atomic stability and make sure his conscious does not drift too far or get lost in the confusing web of the multiverse.

“your vitals look good,” taeyong comments, a few light beeps signaling the functionality of the entire system. “i need you to take a couple of deep breaths for me, then we’ll start the procedure.”

johnny does what he is told, inhales and exhales in the way protocol has dictated.

“now, state your name, designation, and purpose of travel.”

“i am johnny seo youngho,” he begins, breath steady as the glowing band slowly lowers and settles just around his eyes. “lead researcher and level five interdimensional traveler.”

the lights that dot the borders of the cylindrical chamber begin to glow in succession.

“my purpose of travel is to prove my undying love for my dearest husband, lee taeyong.”

taeyong tries his hardest not to cringe, but johnny knows that there’s a smile behind the snort he hears.

“cleared for travel,” taeyong’s voice remains level, a professional in spite of the bumbling romantic he calls his better half. he drives a panel up, presses a couple of buttons. “i am lee taeyong, lead developer, and level five interdimensional traveler. i guarantee your stability in the entirety of your mission.”

“wouldn’t have it any other way,” johnny croons, his mind already beginning to feel the initial pull of the first transport warp. he takes yet another deep breath, relaxes his body against the cold.

the lights in the hall dim as the mechanism whirrs, the bulbs by the cylinder the brightest illumination inside the immaculate chamber. a beep signals that everything is ready for operation.

“ready, _princess_?” taeyong’s voice rings clear in his communicator. his north star. a _beacon_.

“born ready, _baby_.”

there’s a final beep as the device powers up to its maximum, the glow on the cylinder turning almost blinding. it lasts for a second, and suddenly everything is back to an eerie quiet, the only sounds in the hall being the quiet whirr of the machine and the steady beeping of johnny’s vitals monitor.

taeyong inhales, exhales; clasps his hands in a prayer for safe travels.

 

🌙

 

the first thing he feels is a dull throb on his left leg. the air is antiseptic, sterile, almost reminiscent of how their transport chamber smells after taeyong has, again, gone overboard with the spring cleaning.

johnny doesn’t open his eyes just yet. the warp is a success; his mind has roamed across the multiverses and landed in this current one. it takes just a moment for the host to fully accept his intrusion, and soon, he finds himself privy to memories and information that will help him ensure the smoothness of his stay.

in this universe, his name is seo youngho. he is twenty-three, freshly graduated with a degree on fine arts and a specialization in photography. he lives in seoul, in a loft around hongdae.

two things: one, this youngho is _single_. johnny finds the chances amusing, excited at what implications it entails. two, this youngho travels around by bike, and now johnny has an inkling on why there’s a dull throb on his leg, and why his brain feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton.

“ _mr. seo_?”

the voice is familiar, and johnny opens his eyes to confirm his suspicion.

taeyong stands in front of him, dressed in white scrubs, hair dyed to a dirty blonde. it’s not _his_ taeyong, but this one still succeeds in taking his breath away, despite the dark spots in his vision.

“are you an _angel_?” he blurts before he could think, and taeyong’s eyes go wide at the sudden flirtation. he giggles, twinkling and melodious, and johnny has every urge to go back to his home.

 _no, johnny,_ he scolds, mentally slaps himself for good measure. _you have a mission._

“no,” taeyong speaks once the giggles die down, a knuckle to his lips as he shakes his head no. “i’m your nurse. you got into a traffic accident this morning and twisted your leg.”

“oh,” johnny thinks he sounds absolutely stupid. “great to know.”

fortunately, nurse taeyong simply finds amusement in his loose lips. “you’d find it even greater to know that we managed to twist it back in place.” he gestures towards the sturdy cast, but johnny can focus on nothing but the soft smile curved upon his lips. “you only need to wear this thing for a month.”

“great,” johnny lets out a weak chuckle, knowing full well that his expression is love sick. “ _wonderful._ ”

taeyong gives him two nods, clipboard held close to his chest. “no more riding bikes for a while, okay?”

johnny bobs his head, but his tongue gets ahead of his brain. “maybe i could ride you instead?”

it’s a while before johnny realizes what he’s said, curses the antibiotics for the sudden lack of propriety. but even in his haze, he could clearly see the mirth twinkling in the nurse’s hues, the way his teeth graze against his bottom tiers, making for a combination that he knows all too well. _interest._

johnny takes a moment to thank all of the entities above for making him hot in every iteration.

“when you’re not limping,” taeyong shakes his head, obviously amused. “i’ll see you later, mr. seo.”

he rips a page from his clipboard, sets it on johnny’s chest, before bowing politely as he makes his exit.

the last thing johnny does before he warps is to check the page, basking in the victory of a secured number as he lets his consciousness drift back into the cacophonic web of the universe.

 

🌙

 

it’s a beautiful house; the ceilings are high, the walls painted an immaculate white, the wide, open windows showcasing the greenery from the outside. johnny is quite sure that he’s still in some version of seoul, but the ethereal surroundings made him think that the house may as well be otherworldly.

he is seated on a posh, leather couch, a large, flat-screen television hanging on the wall before him. it’s playing a video, a creatively shot film of some sorts with a neon-lit palette that he finds quite pretty.

of course, he finds it pretty. the film is _his_ , or at least, this _johnny’s._

in this universe, johnny seo is the name of a critically acclaimed director, known for his dreamy palettes and creative storytelling manner. the film on the screen is his latest; a coming-of-age number that magazines already claim to be a cannes showstopper. there’s a homoerotic theme to it—his _signature_ , this johnny’s memory supplies—but one of the most talked about tidbits is how it’s the first film that award-winning theater actor lee taeyong would star in after a two-year break from the silver screen.

 _his_ lee taeyong, to be exact.

“oh,” johnny hums to himself, his brows moving in upward approval. “ _interesting_.”

the johnny of this universe has been dating the taeyong of this universe for three years and counting. he came at a low point in johnny’s creative career, and the doe-eyed theater actor served as an effective boost of inspiration, leading to one of his most celebrated and most lauded creations.

funnily enough, this johnny only liked taeyong as an actor. it took months of shameless flirting, persistent wooing, and copious amounts of freshly brewed coffee for johnny to look at the boy beyond the crosshatch of his viewfinder.

the rest is, as they say, history. or in this case, the _present._

there’s a light shuffling from the stairs on his left, and johnny tears his eyes from the screen right when taeyong’s scene is about to come on. it doesn’t matter, though; the real deal is a million times better, and johnny feels like his breath has been punched out of his lungs in the most enjoyable way ever.

“you’re watching it again?” taeyong’s voice is deep, laced with slumber. his blood-red locks stick up into cute little tufts, but johnny thinks he looks no less than angelic, especially in white linen sleepwear.

“mm,” he hums, his smile soft as he follows the redhead with his vision. “never gets old.”

he’s met with a spoiled pout, and his borrowed memory immediately hints that it’s a signal for a needy mood. his thoughts are confirmed once taeyong slides easily onto his lap, ignoring the vast expanse of black leather couch on either side to rest his head against the valley between his chest.

for the first time, johnny realizes that this johnny is lounging shirtless.  

“you _know_ ,” taeyong purrs, his index tracing the taut skin pulled over his pectoral muscles. “you could be watching me instead.”

johnny contemplates a reply, and habit motions that it’s time to tease. “isn’t that what i’m doing?”

taeyong’s brows furrow, and he shifts his legs so he’s straddling johnny’s thighs, his arms resting at either of his shoulders. johnny sees nothing but the pouting boy, his vision instantly obstructed by his pretty little head, his beautifully perfect visage.

“i don’t mean _me_ on the screen,” the actor whines, leaning forth. johnny can taste a hint of peppermint in his breath. “i meant—” his expression takes a turn to the coquettish. “— _me._ ”

johnny simply quirks a brow; a challenge. taeyong takes the bait, slides off of his lap with a smirk.

in his periphery, johnny’s sees the film ebb into its climax; the color scheme shifting from muted neons to a deep sea of red and black. there’s a sensual tune that begins playing, heavy on the bass, but johnny could care less about the cinematics once taeyong begins to gyrate to the haunting music.

this taeyong majored in dance before going into theater, and it shows in a most delectable manner. his hands roam across his torso as he sways his hips, his neck arching back to the rhythm of his touches. johnny shifts in his seat, obviously enthralled, but he leaves all the action to the johnny of this universe.

he warps along to the rustle of taeyong’s linen shirt sliding towards the floor.

 

🌙

 

there are as many universes as there are possibilities. a person’s existence could be one of a million, billion, infinite others. it’s what is interesting about multiversal travel; seeing how many lives can unfold from one soul, how many branches can grow from a once-planted seed.

when he comes to, johnny feels odd, like he’s drifting, _unmoored._

before him is a vast field, the trees tickled pink with the first days of spring. it takes him a while to recognize the little squares that dot the grass as tombstones, markers for the dearly departed.

he hears a line of static in his conscious, along with an ever-familiar voice.

“baby to _princess_ ,” taeyong’s voice rings clear, despite him being a universe away. “do you copy?”

johnny quirks a brow. it is never like his husband to interrupt him in a middle of a travel.

“i copy,” johnny answers, silent and wordless. “what’s up, _baby_?”

“how is it over there?” there’s worry dripping in the scientist’s tone. “your vitals went really low.”

it is there that johnny finally locks onto the marker before him. it doesn’t come as a shock; the probability was much too high to not be chanced upon. it does, however, explain why he feels odd.

“ah, yeah. _peachy_ ,” johnny assures, hues trained on the words engraved on the marble. “it’s just that in this universe—”

_here lies johnny seo youngho._

“—i’m _dead_.”

his conscious fills with silent static that crackles once taeyong speaks. “oh. well—”

“i know,” his voice remains level, but his worry is more for his better, not him. “i won’t stay long.”

“okay.” the static crackles once the communication lines close.

there are as many universes as there are possibilities. in a billion of universes, there are at least a hundred in which a person does not or has ceased to exist. johnny prepares to warp off from the dimension, quite aware of the repercussions in staying non-corporeal for too long. but a too-familiar frame comes into view, and johnny wills himself still, head tilted as he watches the scene unfold.

“hey,” this universe’s taeyong greets, his brown locks dotted with fallen cherry leaves. he places the flowers—carnations—onto the porcelain vase which johnny thinks is much too well kept.

he doesn’t have access to this johnny’s memories; a host has to be alive for a connection to be made, after all. but he doesn’t need any of those to know that this taeyong was in love with the johnny of this universe, the warmth of affection reigning true despite the untimely circumstance.

“happy anniversary,” taeyong sits on the mat, his smile that of a man with no more tears left to cry. johnny thinks it’s probably been a while since this johnny has passed.

it’s silent, but comfortable. the smoke from the newly-lit incense dances with the spring time wind.

“i miss you,” johnny softens at taeyong’s forlorn tone. his doe-eyes brim with an aged longing, for a lover that can never be his once more. “i wish you could come back to me.”

against all better knowledge, johnny walks forth, wraps his arms around the boy’s shoulder, the scent of his strawberry shampoo lingering upon his nose as he drifts off to the web of the multiverse.

(for the first time in seven years, taeyong feels fresh tears fall.)

 

🌙

 

the first thing he hears after he warms is a frenzied “ _watch out_!”

everything else happens too quickly. a blur of red accompanies the warning, and it takes all but a second for the said blur to collide against his shoulder, lose their balance, and begin to fall.

fortunately, johnny is quicker.

“you okay?” comes as his immediate query, and he soon realizes that the blur of red he caught in his arms is no one else but the taeyong of this universe. he’s stunning, as always. for a moment, johnny contemplates asking his taeyong to look at dyeing his hair a cotton-candy pink.

“um—yeah,” pink-haired, rocker chic taeyong answers with two weak nods, both knuckles pressed close to his chest as a reflexive brace against the impact that never came. “th..thanks?”

“no problem,” johnny helps him to a more vertical position, grin bright once the deed is done.

he’s a couple of months shy after nineteen in this universe. the glass window by the nearby café shows him that this johnny is sporting a stylish undercut and a fashion sense that mostly involves dark rinse ripped jeans, muscle tees, and worn converse sneakers. despite the movie trope crash being this johnny’s and this taeyong’s first ever encounter, johnny concludes that they’d look wonderful together.

and lo, this johnny is single to boot, and the twinkle in his honey hues turn from gleeful to full on flirt.

“i know this might be too soon but—” he begins with a confident smoulder. “are you falling for me?”

there’s a twitch of a smile on taeyong’s lips, a hint of red on the tips of his ears.

“i have a boyfriend,” is his quick answer, but the smile he gives is more amused than offended.

johnny is only slightly disappointed. _honest._ there’s a forlorn expression that pans across taeyong’s features, but it’s quick to come, and quick to go. he doesn’t want to make assumptions; doesn’t want to wishfully think that perhaps, the boy is on a search for something better, but it’s a thought he keeps in this johnny’s mind. there is nothing wrong with being friends; it is where _everything_ begins, after all.

(plus, the mission _is_ about falling for every taeyong. doesn’t matter if some don’t love him back.)

still, he offers a playful shrug; acknowledgement and affirmation. “with that face? it’s kind of expected.”

“are you flirting with me?” taeyong asks, brow quirked. johnny is relieved at the lack of malice.

“nope,” he banters, at least seventy-percent truthful. “just stating facts. if you were _single_ , however—”

taeyong snorts at the suggestive wag of his brows. “well i hope you have a great day—”

“ _johnny_.”

taeyong blinks, surprised at the interruption. “pardon?”

“it’s my name,” johnny stutters just a bit, bashful as he scratches the back of his head. “you _know_ —in case you wanted to say thank you properly or—”

“thank you, johnny.” taeyong cuts his ramble, adds a small nod to the gratitude. “i’m taeyong, and i hope our next meeting wouldn’t be as chaotic as this.”

“i don’t mind,” johnny makes it sound like a joke, even if he fully means it. “i can do that all day.”

another snort, but this one has a chuckle tumbling right after. “good to know.”

taeyong turns to leave with a two-fingered salute.

johnny doesn’t push further, deciding to let fate do the rest of the work. he wills his mind out of his host, his last view being the boy’s back as he disappears into the busy streets.  

 

🌙

 

there’s something pressed against his forehead, cold and metallic. johnny thinks it’s a gun of sorts, but the more his senses adapt to his host, the more he realizes that whoever is holding the weapon is either a beginner or somebody who really doesn’t want to pull the trigger.

he hears choked sobs, and he opens his eyes to a sobbing taeyong.

“i’m sorry—” taeyong’s cheeks are wet with tears, his eyes red and swollen. “this is the only way—”

the memories to him like a gust of air, but it hits like a tidal wave. johnny belatedly notices that his hand too is around a gun, the barrel pressed against taeyong’s chest, aimed directly at his heart.

this is not a happy universe. in here, they’re on the run from the state’s authorities, guilty in committing the highest form of crime on the land: falling in love.

for the them of this dimension, dying together is their last and best resort.

unlike taeyong, johnny’s hand does not tremble. still, he lowers the gun and drops it aside, the metal chunk falling to the ground with an echoing thump. taeyong’s brows furrow, his eyes streaked with confusion as johnny takes the barrel of his gun, pressing it firmly against his skull.

“it’s okay,” he soothes, tone gentle despite the erratic beating of his heart. “you can shoot.”

taeyong grits his teeth, his features scrunched in utter pain. he steadies his hand with his wrist, his finger quivering as it presses on the trigger. johnny closes his eyes, ignoring the crackle of his communication line. he knows he can drift off before any sort of fatal escalation.

but nothing comes after. the gun falls to the murky pavement, and taeyong crumbles along.

“i can’t do this,” his shoulders shake with the intensity of his sobbing. johnny kneels, takes him in his arms, rubs soothing circles across the expanse of his back. “i love you, _johnny_ —too much.”

johnny says what he knows would be stated. “i love you too, taeyong. so much.”

taeyong is quick to fall asleep in his arms, both physically and emotionally spent. in a few hours, the wind will kiss their cheeks as they ride off in a stolen vehicle. the setting sun paints taeyong’s snow-white hair with an ethereal glow, and johnny thinks he’ll carry the image with him forever.

there’s a couple of sacred rules in multidimensional travel. above all else, travelers are not allowed to interfere with what _is_ ; everything must be done completely along the lines of the dictates of fate.

today, johnny thinks he could make an exemption.

it’s a small imprint; a little tidbit of an idea that he could leave in the recesses of this johnny’s subconscious. nothing much, and technically speaking, the boo-boo is far from punishable.

 _stay in love. stay alive._  

he plants the mantra into his host’s memory, and the sun’s rays color his eyelids once he sets off.

 

🌙

 

he finds himself in a sea of people, hand tight on a small bouquet of blooms.

he is younger in this dimension, barely a couple months older than eighteen years. he’s dressed in a dark coat, his bangs side-swept, his sweater tucked into dark-rinse jeans. his gloves are fingerless, far from the height of fashion, but this johnny likes to think that he is meant to set trends, not follow them.

slowly, he gains knowledge onto where he is. it’s early february, and he’s in the guest section of the seoul school of performing arts, waiting for his friend so he could celebrate his graduation.

 _taeyong’s_ graduation.

there’s a screen a couple of paces away from the stage, and the camera pans to display a couple of famous people from this batch of graduates. this johnny’s memory tells him that he’s training to become an idol, and the taeyong of this universe is geared up for leadership once he makes his debut. johnny feels pride at that; it’s almost standard for taeyong to be an overachiever, no matter which iteration.

it takes a while before the screen shows his friend. his hair is black, yet to be dyed an outrageous shade, and johnny thinks of telling his own taeyong to go back to a more natural color one of these days. but the thought is tucked back, because johnny finds his expression—or lack of it—utterly peculiar.

who on earth looks bored at their own graduation? he remembers his own one quite clearly; the raucous atmosphere, taeyong leaping into his arms once the ceremonies have ended. back home, taeyong’s expression was filled with utter glee at the thought of being free from the shackles of academics. in here, johnny sees none of it, not even when the boy is called up for his diploma.

he only sees it when he makes his presence known. taeyong’s face lights up almost immediately, and johnny thinks his smile is the most dazzling thing across each and every multiverse.

they smile for the cameras, the reporters saying something about 95BF, or something like that. there’s a flicker of shyness when taeyong receives his bouquet, but it’s immediately schooled into something more _friendly_ , more fit for the headlines of tomorrow. johnny understands all the implications.

it’s a short walk to the van after, but taeyong’s pace is purposefully slow.

“thank you,” he mutters, chin tucked into his jacket fluff. “for being here.”

their knuckles brush once, twice, before johnny takes the initiative to take taeyong’s hand in his. taeyong stiffens, but he soon relaxes into the gesture, intertwines their fingers for good measure.

in this universe, they’re not lovers, but johnny feels— _knows—_ that they love each other.

“no biggie,” he banters, giving taeyong’s hand a light squeeze. “ _best friends_ , right?”

taeyong hums, and he doesn’t speak again until they’re in the van, head tucked in the crook of johnny’s shoulder. johnny eyes the crowd outside, rubs circles on the back of taeyong’s hand with his thumb.

“i can’t wait to debut with you,” taeyong’s voice is barely above a whisper. johnny thinks it’s more of a wish than a statement to reply to, but he still gives a nod, throws in a small hum for an answer.

johnny drifts when he feels taeyong’s breath even out in slumber.

 

🌙

 

the web of the multiverse is a vast array of colors.

johnny floats on the cacophonic canvas, his ears searching for a specific tune.

_i’ll stop the world and melt with you.  
you’ve seen the difference and it’s getting better all the time. _

it’s taeyong’s favorite. johnny has this uncanny collection of songs from the older millennia, and taeyong almost broke the vintage player (an artifact!) that they owned with how much he has played this one tune. of course, it’s a no-brainer that it ends up as his anchor.

amidst the haze of multiple warps, the dreamy tune serves as his beacon, and he swims towards the sound like a fish caught on a fishing line, onwards to where it the melody gets louder.

_there’s nothing you and i can do_

                                                                             and _louder._

_i’ll stop the world and melt with you._

                                      and **_louder._**

johnny knows he’s back home with the brief flash of numbing cold.

he also knows that he’s not supposed to be home, that these aren’t the coordinates he’s typed-in.

“this isn’t—” he starts, voice thick, as if he’s waking up after a full night of drinking. “this isn’t where i—”

“the limit’s seven, princess.” taeyong’s voice cuts through the cotton in his brain, quickly pulls him out of the haze and back into reality. suddenly, johnny can feel everything at once, starting from a painful pounding at the base of his neck. the _side-effects_. “you were already at six.”

“ah,” johnny nods as the band lifts from his head, and he squints his eyes to help them adjust to the chamber’s sterile brightness. it’s a habit of his to forget to keep track of his warp count, and he thanks his lucky stars that he has his level-headed husband as his most trusted operator. “ _right_.”

the cryogenic chamber opens with a fizzle of frost, and johnny steps out of the cylinder with a little wobble in his legs. the stabilization process is a quick one, and taeyong all but runs to johnny’s aid after the scanners have cleared his atomic composition. johnny falls into his arms like clockwork, and taeyong weaves his arms around his waist, rubbing his back with gentle, even strokes.

johnny loves this, would name it as his favorite part if anyone asks. it’s like a ritual, almost. there’s a light rumble under his skin that won’t leave until after a day, along with a migraine that would keep him whining for the next hour or so, but everything is forgotten once he’s in taeyong’s arms.

he is here. he is _real._ and he isn’t going anywhere, not for the time being.

“you’re so cold,” taeyong quips, and johnny finds home in the rumble of his laughter. “like an ice cube.”

“ _yeah_ ,” his voice remains an octave lower, mostly from the haze. “and your favorite food is ice cream.”

 

🌙

 

“so.”

the inquiry begins at dinner. mostly, it’s johnny engorging on the feast taeyong has set out on the table, while taeyong watches johnny engorge with a rather endeared expression. married life is truly wonderful. “did you seriously fall for me in every dimension you went to?”

“it wasn’t hard,” comes johnny’s quick reply, after a loud slurp of soup. instead of disgust, taeyong takes the empty bowl and refills it with another serving. “some of them already were. and besides—”

johnny looks up from his bowl, honey-brown hues twinkling with sincerity. “—i’ll always fall if it’s you.”

“pft,” taeyong snorts, but a light pink dusts his cheeks, as well as the tips of his ears. he spoons more meat onto johnny’s almost -cleared plate. “well i’m glad i’m the only one in this dimension.”

“ _baby,_ ” the nickname comes as a purr, with a pout as a punctuation. taeyong finds it hard to keep from smiling when he ups the ante and adds puppy eyes to the mix. “you know no one can compare to you.”

johnny almost chokes from the large kimchi slice taeyong feeds him in place of an answer.

they’re silent for a while. johnny stops at four servings, despite taeyong’s insistence for a fifth (“or a sixth! one for every dimension!”). they clear the table of their plates and bowls, leaving the washing and the drying to the fully automated sink. taeyong has promised to watch the travel record after dinner, and johnny’s hold is gentle against his hand as he leads them both into the living area.

“how’s your head?” taeyong asks, brushing a few stray strands away from johnny’s forehead. “better?”

johnny nods, automatically looping his arm around his shoulder. “better.”

the wall easily converts to a widescreen television, and all it needs is a smooth gesture to begin playing the clips. taeyong soon finds himself immersed in their different versions, in awe of how they remain together in every single one, even amidst unavoidable circumstance.

taeyong, unlike johnny, is a _realist_. it’s part of why they’ve clicked from the very beginning, and why they click until now. when the council told him that they were quantum aligned, all he gave them was a nod of understanding. seeing it in action, though, leaves him just a smidge short of breathless.

“six dimensions,” taeyong leans against johnny’s shoulder, eyes glued to the moving picture. johnny absent-mindedly draws circles on his upper arm, and he hums, comfortable. “six r _andom_ dimensions, and we always find ourselves together.”

“that’s how quantum alignment works, babe,” johnny motions, not without distaste in the scrunch of his nose. “god, i hate that term. so _unromantic._ they could’ve just said soulmates. _soulmates._ “

taeyong snorts at the typical outburst.

for a beat, the only sound in the room comes from the records.

“do you not get tired of it?”

johnny quirks a brow at the sudden question, turning away from the screen to focus on his better. “of what?”

“ _this_ ,” taeyong shrugs, eyes elsewhere. his teeth graze against his bottom lip. “just…this.”

it’s not an everyday occurrence, but they do have these moments. johnny thinks it’s a remnant of university, of a time when taeyong was a firestarter, with a penchant for contesting scientific fact despite empirical evidence. it’s one of johnny’s favorite things about him, but never in this context; not when the contestation is built on buried insecurities, instead of blazing confidence and wit.

“no,” johnny’s answer is quick, enough to make taeyong look, see his eyes burn with honesty. “do you?”

taeyong ducks under his arm, bites his side for good measure. “ _never_.”

it takes one fluid motion for johnny to press him flush against his form, cheek smushed on his toned chest. it vibrates when he chuckles, and taeyong nuzzles forth, basking in the comfortable warmth.

“i told you,” johnny begins, and taeyong can already feel his arteries clench at the oncoming cheese. “even if i were _reborn_ —” he leans forward, ghosts his lips above taeyong’s own, and taeyong tips his chin up for a stolen liplock. “—i’d still want to love you. over and over and _over_ —”

“ _stop_ ,” taeyong whines between giggles, trapping johnny’s cheeks between his palms. he thinks his husband makes a good fish. “i don’t need that much. i just need you to love me in this one.”

“and i _do_ ” johnny affirms, sees an opportunity to steal a kiss, and goes for it. “i love you. all of you.”

taeyong’s features scrunch up in disgust, but there’s endearment in those creases.

“and i love you.” he leans in, a kiss serving as his punctuation. “all of you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> please don't forget to leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> thank you for reading, and i love you!


End file.
